


Dominos

by datGuy007



Category: Original Work
Genre: Coming of Age, Morning Sickness, Nausea, Pregnancy, Swimming, Teen Pregnancy, fatigue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:47:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29041107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/datGuy007/pseuds/datGuy007
Summary: "Layla opened her eyes, and then took in a deep breath. Today was her twelfth birthday, and, as such, was also the day of her First Conception."Changes are constant in the lives of Layla and her friends.
Relationships: Layla Thomas & Eva Thomas, Layla Thomas & Isla Bellamy
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	1. Part I

Layla opened her eyes, and then took in a deep breath. Today was her twelfth birthday, and, as such, was also the day of her First Conception. For all she knew, it had already happened - she didn’t know the exact time of her birth. Or maybe it would not happen until the end of the day, while she was deep in sleep. But that was besides the point - she would, regardless, have a growing baby in her womb for at least the next nine years.

She sat up from bed, and slid off her pyjama top and shorts. In the mirror, she peered at her body. She could see a still flat belly, small but growing breasts, and developing curves. This wouldn’t be her in a few years. Her belly would round and swell, her breasts would grow along with it, her hips would widen, her booty would thicken, her back would involuntarily arch under their new weight. But she would not think about that today. Today was her birthday, and she wouldn’t let Conception ruin it. Layla clasped her bra, slid up her panties, and slid down her black school dress. Then, she walked downstairs for breakfast.

The smell of pancakes wafted up through the stairs as Layla made her way down. In the kitchen was her mother, or birth mother to be precise, cooking up Layla’s favourite food. When she heard the footsteps, she turned around, as quickly as any heavily pregnant woman could, and beamed at Layla.  
“Happy birthday! And happy First Conception too!”  
Layla forced herself to meet her mother’s gaze.  
“Thanks, mum,” she managed, weakly, as she took a seat at the table.  
“This is so exciting,” her mother continued, apparently blind to Layla’s growing discomfort. “My little girl is turning into a woman!”

Layla distracted herself from her mother’s comments by occupying herself wolfing down pancakes. She successfully did so until her younger sister also came downstairs and saw her pigging out.  
“I don’t want to be mean because it’s your birthday, Lay, but if you keep that up you’ll be a splitting image of mama in less than nine years.”  
“Eva!” her mother scolded.  
Layla’s appetite suddenly disappeared. The words stung more than they should have.  
“I- I’m sorry Lay,” Eva stuttered, stunned at the effect they had on her. Layla didn’t know it, but her discomfort was clear through her body language.

Layla abruptly left her plate and walked back upstairs. Eva didn’t mean it that way, she tried to reassure herself. And she wouldn’t have your hang ups about it. She was just making a bad joke about overeating. Still, part of her wanted to spend the day crying in her room.

Layla spat the toothpaste out of her mouth and rinsed her toothbrush. Then, she took out her hairbrush and ran it through her long brown hair. That always made her feel better. She tried not to think about hair becoming thicker and shinier.

After she finished with her hair, she moisturised her face and took out her makeup. She didn’t feel like much today, so she went with a simple combination of mascara, blush and lip gloss. She tried not to think about skin glowing and lips becoming fuller.

Layla then grabbed her school bag and went out the door. Thankfully, everyone had left the kitchen by then, preventing any inevitably awkward moment from occurring. She then started off in the direction of the bus stop around the corner from her house.

***

When she arrived, the bus stop was full of girls dressed in the school’s mandatory white school shirt and black pleated school skirt, or black school dresses similar to hers. They had congregated in small groups, animated in conversation with one another. Good, thought Layla. That meant she hadn’t missed the bus.

The girls around the side in which she first arrived were older girls. She could tell from their swollen bellies under their shirts and dresses, not to mention their bigger breasts, and bigger, well, basically everything else. She looked away as one of them started to gently massage the side of her belly.

“Layla!” a voice called. Layla turned around. Isla, her best friend, was coming toward her.  
“Happy birthday! And happy First Conception too!” she said, much more enthusiastic about Layla’s First Conception than Layla herself.  
But that wasn’t unexpected. Isla had been extremely excited about her own First Conception a few months earlier. Layla could only imagine what Isla would be like when her pregnancy actually became visible - showing off her bump in bodycon dresses for modelling club, volunteering to lead stretches in P.E., unashamed of her belly spilling out between her sports bra and her shorts, and enthusiastically giving presentations in health about all the right vitamins their babies need while lovingly caressing her belly the entire time. Don’t get her wrong - Isla was a good person, and Layla valued her as a friend, but she could just never understand her enjoyment of this aspect of their lives. And unfortunately for Layla, most people were closer to Isla’s line of thinking than hers.

“Thanks Isla,” she responded.  
“God, I can’t wait until I get big like Autumn over there,” Isla whispered, conspiratorially, while gesturing toward the older girl with a conspicuously large belly, which seemed to be in a class of its own amongst the friends in the group she was in. “I bet she’s having twins, or even triplets if she’s lucky.”

Layla didn’t really want to talk about this subject, but she supposed it was better than Isla asking her about her thoughts on her own pregnancy. So she tried to push it onto Isla instead.  
“So you want twins or triplets then?” Layla whispered back, unable to stop incredulity leaking into her voice.  
“Hell yeah I do. Can you imagine having a belly that big and round and full of life?” Isla started, dreamily. “Can you imagine the taut, firm orb in front of you, arching your spine out, creating so much pressure it pops your belly button out?”

Layla couldn’t hear any more of this. Not just because she didn’t want to be reminded on her birthday, but also because what she was talking about was not discussed in polite conversation.  
“Isla, T.M.I.,” she said, tersely.  
“Oh shush,” was Isla’s reply. “I bet you secretly feel the same too.”

Layla was incredulous. Did Isla actually think she not only didn’t dislike pregnancy, but actually had some sort of fetish for it like Isla did?  
“You act like you don’t care for it, but in a few years you’ll be rubbing away kicks in your belly while gazing lovingly into the distance,” Isla continued.

Layla spluttered. Did her friend truly know her this poorly?  
“I see it deep inside you, Lay,” Isla kept speaking.

Luckily, Layla was saved from any more of that awkward conversation by the arrival of the bus. While she sat next to Isla again, she made sure they sat behind another older girl with a particularly large bump, and Isla stroke up a conversation with her instead. God, Isla was such a pervert.


	2. Part II

Layla sat on the ground next to the toilet bowl, struggling not to puke as a wave of nausea coursed through her body. Her arm subconsciously went to her slightly bloated belly. For a few seconds she felt a little better. Then, in her mind, it clicked.

She jerked her arm away. This was morning sickness.

In the over a year since her First Conception, she had experienced no symptoms until now. She had been starting to wonder if she was a Wombless - not in the sense of not having a uterus (her mother had taken her to an ultrasound to confirm it was there when she was ten), but in the sense that it did not, for whatever reason, work correctly.   
She wasn’t sure which was better, honestly - while Wombless couldn’t undergo Conception, they were discriminated against and forced to live segregated from normal society, in fear that their Womblessness might be contagious. But that point was moot now - she now had clear evidence that she underwent her First Conception.

Now that Layla had experienced morning sickness, she was slightly worried about its severity. Most girls at her school didn’t experience it, or at worst felt slightly nauseous only when going near certain smells that didn’t agree with them, but never to the point of vomiting. That’s not to say none did - a few had it even worse.   
Isla had actually vomited once or twice and had started complained about feeling like she needed to vomit at least once per week. And even that was nothing compared to Lucy - she had to take school at home for a term because the residual smell of the products used to clean the classrooms made her vomit. There were also others that weren’t quite as bad, maybe about as bad as Layla herself. But that still wasn’t particularly comforting for Layla.

Even more strangely, Layla’s birth mother had never had morning sickness with her or in her current pregnancy - she said that she had been slightly nauseous on some occasions at most, and never to the point of vomiting. While Layla was not entirely genetically identical to her birth mother, there was minimal incorporation of her donor mother’s DNA in her biological makeup. And besides, her donor mother had not experienced morning sickness with Eva or in her current pregnancy either. So on a theoretical genetic basis, there shouldn’t be any significant chance of Layla getting this horrific morning sickness.

Another wave of nausea began in her belly.

“Ohhhh,” she moaned out loud, clutching its slight swell, and trying not to vomit. Layla desperately hoped she didn’t have to handle an entire year of this.


	3. Part III

Layla woke up in bed and immediately felt an overwhelming urge to puke. She ran to her ensuite, trying her best to hold in the vomit, and successfully managed to position herself right over the toilet bowl before involuntarily letting out all the contents of her stomach. She panted, catching her breath, and massaged the swell of her sore stomach.

Layla had not had a good year. Her morning sickness had not subsided, even after her fourteenth birthday, which seemed to work like magic for the morning sickness of her few friends that had it in the first place. She swore she had vomited at least once every day since the first day her morning sickness had appeared.

Some days were much worse than a mere “once per day”. On one memorable day, around Isla’s birthday, Layla had managed to vomit twice before leaving for school, and then thrice during school (which would’ve been twice if Athena hadn’t had the _amazing_ idea to use vinegar in her cheese sandwich) before being sent home at lunchtime. She then spent the afternoon clinging to the toilet bowl while her mother massaged her back, trying to get the smell of vinegar out of her nostrils.

And it wasn’t just morning sickness that was ruining her life - it was a general sense of tiredness or fatigue too. Layla used to be one of the best girls on the swim team, but over the past year she could barely get through training. She had to quit because she just didn’t have the stamina anymore. Well, that and the fact that her racing swimsuit was getting uncomfortably tight around her sore, noticeably larger breasts and her perpetually bloated belly.

But again, she wasn’t the only one suffering from fatigue either. In fact, it seemed a bit more prominent than morning sickness among the girls of her year. Nova, possibly the most driven, academically capable student Layla knew, fell asleep during class. When she found out, she was mortified, as were her mothers.   
Even Isla, who used to fill her weekends shopping, playing sport and going out seemed to spend half her weekends sleeping nowadays, or at least lying in bed, probably playing with her own perpetually bloated belly. Ew.

But that was besides the point. All Layla could do now was hope, as she had for the last year or so, that her morning sickness would subside and that the rest of her pregnancy would be no worse. She rubbed her sore belly again, heaving as she felt her nausea well up once more.


	4. Part IV

Layla yawned, thrusting her arms towards the ceiling as she sat up in bed. Her hands went automatically to her swollen belly. She began an exploratory poke, as she had done every morning for approximately the last year, to see how far her finger would go through the soft bloat that always surrounded her belly. Since about her fifteenth birthday, the taut, firm surface that her finger made it down to had been noticeably in front of her hip bones. She assumed that this was the beginning of her baby bump, hidden under the layer of bloat. Today, her finger seemed to penetrate less far than usual before reaching her bump. Either her perpetual bloating was subsiding or, more likely, her baby bump had undergone a bit of a growth spurt.

The latter wouldn’t surprise her. Ever since her morning sickness had subsided around a year ago, her ravenous appetite had returned. She couldn’t help but almost stuff herself at every meal, and there hadn’t been any occasion in the past few months in which her belly hadn’t been noticeably larger after she had finished. On a few occasions, she had eaten so much that her belly swelled up to the point of stretching her dress or waistband tight around her waist, causing her squashed belly considerable discomfort. Her appetite had not helped her bloating, which had also significantly increased over the past year, but also probably accelerated the growth of her baby, she assumed. That would explain why she seemed a bit big.

Layla took out her clothes for school and walked over to her full length mirror. Her pyjama top was now flush against her bigger breasts and her swollen belly. Her shorts were pulled tight by her wider hips and her thicker booty. A flash of wrongness from part of her spread through her body, but the rest of her quickly suppressed it. There's nothing to be ashamed of, she said to herself. This is your body now, and it’s perfectly natural.

In all honesty, she was actually taking this better than she thought she would right after her First Conception. She thought the pregnancy would feel off, feel wrong, feel shameful as she lost her innocence as her belly (and the rest of her) grew. But after her horrific morning sickness, she was almost relieved to see the other changes. She almost welcomed her perpetually bloated belly swelling up even more with both bloat and baby, almost welcomed her still sore breasts growing larger and larger each month. And aside from the occasional feelings of wrongness part of her got when she looked at herself, and maybe some embarrassment, she was handling it very well. Maybe it was the hormones.

Layla removed her pyjama top and shorts, and looked in the mirror again, rotating her body so that she could see herself from multiple angles. Her pyjamas had hidden the true extent to which her body had changed. Much to her embarrassment, her round and swollen belly now extended further than her breasts, despite all the growth her breasts had also had. Her booty had also rounded and increased in size, to the point where it seemed to stick out behind her almost as much as her breasts stuck out in front. Her back seemed to be slightly arched, though she could not tell whether it truly was or whether it was just an illusion caused by her bigger butt. Her hips were wider, accentuating the hourglass shape of her body. And that was probably enough of looking at herself.   
Layla shook herself out of her trance, slipped up her panties, and clasped her bra. She then slid down her black school dress, having to tug to prevent it from getting caught on her considerable breasts and belly. Her swollen stomach let out a deep rumble. She cringed at the sound, but knew she couldn’t ignore it. It was time for breakfast.

***

Layla made her way toward the fridge, and poured herself a large bowl of yoghurt, to which she added a generous helping of muesli. She topped off her bowl with a selection of seasonal fruits. She then sat down at the table and scoffed down her meal, saving herself the embarrassment of her swollen stomach rumbling again.

Eva had arrived sometime during Layla's meal. Eva had not cracked any more jokes at Layla’s expense since Layla’s morning sickness had begun, evidently fearful of being afflicted herself. This new attitude had only intensified since Eva underwent her own First Conception about six months prior. As such, Eva did not comment on Layla’s swollen orb of a stomach, which seemed noticeably more bloated by the end of Layla’s meal.

After washing her Bircher muesli down with a big glass of orange juice, Layla left the table to further prepare herself for school. Eva, on the other hand, thought about the potential horrors she could go through in nine or so months. Unconsciously, she rubbed her slightly bloated belly through her dress, her belly not yet large enough to be visible through it.

***

Layla spat the toothpaste out of her mouth. Her belly felt a bit uncomfortable. Perhaps her dress was getting too small for her increased size again. Whatever the reason, she couldn’t do anything about it now, so she tried to ignore it.

She then ran her hairbrush through her long, brown hair. It had, as she had expected, grown thicker and shinier over the past few years. Also, as she had predicted, the radiant glow of her skin meant that basically any makeup except mascara made her look worse, if anything. Honestly, pregnancy was good for her hair and skin, which helped her to feel a little less uncomfortable with it. Still, she was definitely not looking forward to the massive, heavy and uncomfortable belly that she would inevitably get. But what could she do?

***

At the bus stop, Layla noticed, much to her chagrin, that about half of the girls there were now younger than her. They were peering at her as one of the ones with the visibly swollen bellies, probably trying to guess what year she was in by the size of her belly.   
Layla was a bit self-conscious about her belly size - it wasn’t as if they had measured, but to Layla it looked like her belly was bigger than most of her friends, and her grade in general. Only Lucy and Nova seemed to definitely have bigger bellies, while Isla, Rebecca, Selina and a couple of others seemed to be around the same size as her. This was, of course, based on Layla’s observation of their bellies in any skintight dresses or swimsuits they wore, so it was entirely possible that she was somewhat underestimating their sizes. The only thing that really made Layla feel better was that Isla had a similar-sized belly to her, partially because it meant Isla would fuss over her own belly instead of Layla’s, and partially because she knew seeing Isla more often than her other friends meant that Isla’s belly size had a larger weighting on her mental calculations of what an average belly size would be.

When the bus finally came, Layla joined the long queue at its entrance. She found Isla in a window seat gazing down thoughtfully at her belly, or rather at the bump in her school dress made by it. Layla suppressed an eye-roll before joining her. If she was this bad now, what would she be like when her belly actually grew to its full size?

As the bus drove off, Layla smirked, unable to stop thinking about Isla becoming a barely-sentient vegetable.


	5. Part V

When the bus arrived at school, Isla snapped out of her stupor and only then realised Layla was sitting next to her.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry Lay,” she started apologising, in her usual bubbly manner. “It’s just that, I was thinking about whether I’m having multiples.”  
“What?” Layla couldn’t stop her mouth from letting the word escape.

Isla started gesticulating.  
“No, seriously! The terrible morning sickness and fatigue, the bigger belly and boo-“  
“ _OH_ -kay, that is _definitely_ T.M.I., Isla,” Layla shouted.  
“Whatever!” Isla retorted. “But you know I’m right.”  
“No, I don’t know you’re right,” Layla replied, incredulous. “You yourself said your belly was virtually all bloat, for one, and -“  
“Which is because of more hormones from more babies!” Isla interrupted. “It’s the same for the boo- chest!”  
“Or it could be from eating like twice the amount you have for the last two years,” Layla returned, matter-of-factly.  
“Because of more babies!” came Isla’s reply. “I’m eating for more than two!”

Layla had tired of the conversation, if that was what one could even call the shouting match. So she retorted with the one point she had left.

“Well all of your _‘evidence’_ also applies to me - my morning sickness was terrible, my fatigue was terrible, my belly i-is, you know, and whatever,” Layla started, setting up her irrefutable argument while struggling to override her body’s natural urge to dance around the awkward subject matter. “And I’m not having multiples. So why would you be then?”  
“Unless you _are_ having multiples,” came Isla’s reply, in the calm tone of a conspiracy theorist who sincerely believes something patently ridiculous.

Layla spluttered.  
“What?!” Layla exclaimed, loud enough to attract some attention from the girls nearby.  
“Maybe we’re both having twins, or, hopefully, triplets,” Isla rambled. “I don’t think we’re big enough for quadruplets or more, but maybe we just have really strong stomach muscles!”  
“When did this become we? And anyway, I’m sure I’m only having the one. I hope I’m only having the one. I can’t even imagine how uncomfortable it would be with twins.”  
“Why would you complain? Your belly would be so big and se-“  
“Oh my god Isla!” Layla interrupted, exasperated.

Suddenly, a horrifying thought popped into Layla’s head. She swivelled her wrist upward at lightning speed.

 _8:48_ , her watch read.

Layla suppressed the urge to swear.  
“Crap, I’m late for P.E. See you at recess!”  
“Bye!”

***

As she ran to the locker rooms, Layla could not stop thinking about what Isla had said. It... did answer some questions - could multiples be the reason why she had morning sickness when her mothers didn’t? But it raised other questions too - if she was having twins or more, why didn’t it run in her family like it did in Rebecca’s, for instance? And okay, she certainly had some level of fatigue, but competitive swimming was difficult at the best of times, so it wasn’t like she had an abnormally large amount of it like one would expect with twins. Overall, it was probably just coincidence coupled with Isla’s wishful thinking.

The locker room was virtually empty by the time Layla arrived. Her breasts were slightly sore from running without a sports bra, but luckily her tighter-than-expected dress seemed to pick up some of the slack.

As it was summer, the featured sport in physical education was swimming. It was for good reason too - they couldn’t have their pregnant students (or teachers) getting hyperthermia. This summer, with the increasing disappearance of her fatigue, Layla had actually improved her swimming for the first time in a few years. She was working her way back up to rejoining the swim team, assuming that her theory that increased drag from a larger chest and belly would slow everyone down equally would prove correct.

After entering a stall, Layla removed her dress and lingerie, and stepped into her swimsuit, pulling the stretchy fabric up over the mounds that were her belly, butt and breasts. After grabbing her goggles, she made her way to the pool.

***

Layla arrived just as the teacher, Mrs Grant, started the roll. Mrs Grant held the coveted position of swim instructor, widely considered the best staffing position among the student body due it allowing the comfort of being in the pool all day (both in terms of temperature and in the lack of supporting one’s own weight). Students were not made aware of exactly how staffing positions were assigned, but Layla thought she had a pretty good idea of why - because the administration took pity on Mrs Grant for her extremely large belly.

Extremely large was no exaggeration or subjective opinion either - Mrs Grant was the sole staff member pregnant with quadruplets, and it showed. Her massively swollen belly stuck out further than her torso was tall, wider than her hips were wide, and took up all of the space between the bottom of her true ribs and the top of her pelvis and then some. Her skin was so stretched over her overfilled womb that her belly button was stretched flat, pulled tight across her belly, rather than protruding outwards from the pressure like one would with a regular baby bump. Her bust and belly were so heavy that her spine had to arch unnaturally to support them, especially when she was out of the water. Layla had accidentally bumped into her belly once while swimming, and was almost horrified at how firm and tight it was, with virtually no softness or give. Honestly, if Layla was in her place, she would just have the babies unless she had some sort of family history of having even more - surely it would be easier to deal with four babies and a manageable baby bump than a giant, drum-tight and probably painful boulder as your belly. But apparently Mrs Grant disagreed, or simply believed the job perks outweighed her personal downsides, because she had been sporting that belly at full term ever since she had joined the school years ago as a student teacher.

“Layla Thomas?”

The sound of her name snapped Layla out of her thoughts. Mrs Grant looked at her with one hand on her hip and an unimpressed look on her face. It must’ve been the second time she’d asked.

“Uh, y-yeah, sorry,” Layla stuttered. “Here.”

Mrs Grant grimaced and moved her free hand to the side of her belly. Layla could see her belly warp through her swimsuit, bulges appearing and disappearing where Mrs Grant desperately rubbed, looking as if she was trying to stifle a moan of pain. Layla forced herself to look away. Looking around at the other students, she seemed to be the only one without her eyes glued to Mrs Grant’s writhing belly. After a couple of presumably agonising minutes, during which Mrs Grant was unable to prevent a few moans from passing through her lips, the rate of movement of Mrs Grant’s belly slowed, and eventually stopped altogether, her massive belly returning to its former symmetrical shape. Mrs Grant gave one last slow clockwise rub, and then cleared her throat.

“Jenny Torres?” asked Mrs Grant. Layla looked around in confusion. Was she just going to pretend nothing had happened?  
“Here,” came Jenny’s reply, in a completely nonchalant tone. Normally, Layla would feel a slight pang of jealousy about Jenny’s position as captain of the swim team. Today, the feeling of confusion over Jenny apparently ignoring the sight completely overwhelmed it.

Mrs Grant continued the roll without any further interruptions. To Layla’s great surprise, none of the other girls mentioned anything about what had happened. Most of them didn’t even look uncomfortable. Layla was on the verge of butting in and mentioning it herself, but then Mrs Grant finished the roll and instructed them to swim laps, and Layla decided she didn’t want to miss out on any swimming time. So she put her goggles over her eyes, kicked off from the edge, and swam the best freestyle she could manage to the other side.

***

When she was just about to leave the far side, Alexis managed to get there (on her second lap - she was still on the swim team and it showed) and waved her over.  
“Hey, Layla!” Alexis started, excited to see her. “Your swimming seems better already. When are you rejoining the team?”

They had been quite close when on the swim team, but had drifted apart a bit after Layla’s nausea and fatigue had forced her to quit. Obviously Alexis missed having her there.

“You’re still way faster than me if you managed to get here and back and here again before me,” replied Layla.  
“No way - I just had a head start on you. You seemed to freeze for a good 30 seconds before leaving.”

That confused Layla.  
“I free- ... what?” she started, so confused she struggled to articulate what she wanted to say. “You saw that, didn’t you?”  
“Saw what?” asked Alexis, seemingly genuinely confused.  
“Mrs Grant,” hissed Layla, not wanting to be overheard.  
“What about her?” asked Alexis, in the same tone as before.  
“Her b-belly,” Layla stuttered, still hissing.  
“What about her belly?” asked Alexis, still at normal voice volume. “She’s big, yeah - she has quads.”  
“No,” Layla whispered, incredulous, “not that. I’m talking about when she spent l-like two minutes m-moaning in pain and r-rubbing her belly and then acted like nothing happened.”  
“Oh, that,” admitted Alexis, slightly quieter. “Well, she’s having quads, and I’m sure her belly really hurts when they kick.”  
“But pretending that it didn’t happen?”  
“It’s probably really embarrassing for her. And you know, if I were in her shoes, I wouldn’t want people reminding me of it. So that’s why I try to ignore it.”  
“So then why doesn’t she just have them?” Layla replied, confused about how Alexis seemed to be completely nonchalant about the whole topic. “I-if it’s so painful and embarrassing?”

Alexis shrugged.  
“I don’t know. Could be a lot of things. She’s ‘Mrs’ so maybe her wife just had hers and she doesn’t want to deal with that many babies at once. Or maybe she thinks she’ll get more in her next Conception - you know what they say about having greater chances of more as you get older. Or maybe she’s in a bad financial position and can’t afford time off work to look after them. Or something else I haven’t thought of.”  
“R-right, okay,” Layla replied, still confused about Alexis’ matter-of-fact tone. Layla could imagine almost nothing worse than being stuck with a belly that painful and of that size, but she supposed some of Alexis’ arguments were valid. Still, she would probably risk it anyway.  
“Well, anyway,” Alexis said in a cheerful tone again as she got ready to swim off, “I hope to see you on the swim team again soon. Bye Layla!”  
“Bye Alexis,” Layla replied, and swam back herself.

***

After 90 minutes of laps, Mrs Grant blew the whistle (to the extent that a woman with full term quadruplets could blow) to signal that Physical Education would be imminently over. Girls rushed out of the pool and towards the locker room, desperately trying to be fast enough to claim a shower stall. Unfortunately for Layla, her time off track and field due to nausea and fatigue meant that her running speed had declined in the past few years. Needless to say, by the time she pulled herself out of the water and sprinted to the locker room, the shower stalls were all occupied.  
Layla groaned in annoyance. She would be late for recess at this rate. So, Layla stood there, dripping wet in her blue one-piece, waiting in front of the showers for someone to leave.

About five minutes later a door opened up on the left side of the steamy room. Layla almost knocked the girl over as she rushed past, trying to get to the cubicle before anyone else. This time she succeeded.

Layla put her towel on the rack. Now was the time to perform the difficult task of removing a wet swimsuit, which was hard enough without the added difficulty of her bust and belly. Don’t get her wrong - this was nowhere near as difficult as it would be for, say, Mrs Grant to remove her swimsuit, but it was also nowhere near as easy as Layla remembered it being as a pre-teen.

Layla pulled the straps off of her shoulders, stretching the swimsuit to get it over her sizeable breasts. Then, she pulled it down over her swollen abdomen, gently and carefully doing so to avoid having to peel it. After that, she pulled it carefully over her booty and down her toned legs, not wanting to leave it inside-out. Once her swimsuit had been completely removed, she put it aside and turned on the shower.

Warm water sprayed out of the shower head. Layla moved herself under it, trying to get the stream to cover every square inch of her body. She tilted her head back and ran her hands through her long brown hair, carefully massaging the strands to ensure the chlorine completely washed out. She ran her hands over her arms and thighs too, ensuring that the water reached areas blocked from the shower head’s path by the rest of her body.

A few minutes later, Layla turned off the faucet and grabbed her towel. After quickly drying her body, she wrapped herself in her towel and stepped out of the shower stall.

Outside, countless girls wrapped in towels or clothed in swimsuits and school uniforms congregated in the various areas of the locker room. Layla joined the crowd, trying to push through the disorganised maze of people through to her locker. After retrieving her bra, panties and dress, she found a stall to change in.

Layla opened her towel, catching it in her arms before it fell. She then put on her lingerie, sliding her panties up her toned thighs to rest at her widening hips, and clasping her bra over her sizeable bust. Then, she went to put on her black school dress - left arm through left sleeve, then right arm, over the head, then pulling the dress past where it naturally caught on her chest and her belly.

When she had finished, she emptied her locker. After putting on her black shoes and white socks in the main locker room, she took her bag (with swimsuit and towel inside), and left for recess.

Deep in her mind, thoughts of Isla’s theory and Mrs Grant’s belly swirled around. All her conscious mind felt was a twinge of apprehension.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally figured out how to fix the formatting! Hopefully this looks better and not worse.


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